


how the thunder sounds out, storming

by Rick_KTish



Series: Rick's Linked Universe things [4]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comfort, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Panic Attacks, ambiguous character, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27986964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rick_KTish/pseuds/Rick_KTish
Summary: Sometimes all you can do is ride it out.
Series: Rick's Linked Universe things [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668484
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	how the thunder sounds out, storming

He can’t say it’s out of nowhere, honestly, because it’s been building for a minute before it hits. And by ‘a minute’ what should be understood is that he’s felt the slow grip of panic creeping ever nearer across several days, perhaps weeks, and he really, by all accounts, ought to be far more prepared than he actually is when it finally strikes. As it is, he finds himself instead gripped in the throes of silence as the nine of them are stuck in a cave in Wild’sera, waiting out a thunder and lightning storm to shake the gods themselves. 

It starts with the numbness. His fingers are trembling; he can feel them distantly, but it’s like they’re not really all the way attached to him. His whole body begins to drift far, far away, into a strange oblivion entirely separate from the one he finds the rest of his mind and self stuck in. 

He’s not sure when he begins to rock, but in the grand scheme of the total end of all his self control and respect, what’s a little wobbling? It relieves some of the pressure from his gut, which is clenching and churning by turns, trying, it seems, to eat itself from the inside out. And then of course comes the clenching; his shoulders, hunched up to his ears and squeezing his neck painfully; his legs, curled up close around him previously for warmth but now he’s certain he couldn’t uncurl them if he tried, and above all his jaw, tightening to a wire trap fit to crumble teeth but when he forces it slightly open the tension doesn’t ease in the slightest. He’s drawn tighter than a bowstring, which certainly would have snapped and broken by now; paralyzed by an unnameable terror and silenced by his own body and mind in the face of whatever stupid things have stacked up this time to drag him into this utter misery. 

He’s just made the mistake of hysterically thanking the gods that at least the others are too preoccupied with watching the lightning dance outside their shelter to notice his humiliation when, in true goddessly fashion, someone notices.

“... Are you okay?”

...He can’t even turn his head. He tries to unclench his hands to sign, but that seems to be also broken at the moment. That’s probably not a good sign for his current state, but honestly, he’s more bothered by the fact that he can’t communicate that he’ll be  _ fine, _ just  _ give it a minute, _ this will ride itself out if his intruder could just  _ go away. _

“...You don’t look fine. Do you want me to get one of the others?” 

Huh. He hadn’t realized he was keeping his breathing mostly steady until it actually picked up. Funny that. At least the alarm gets his hands moving; it’s not intelligible sign, but he manages a pretty clear protest, which is better than he hoped but not quite what he needs. Still, at least it gets the point across.

“Okay, we don’t have to do that!”

His hands still, reverting to their clenched state. Apparently they’re done moving for now.

“What can I... hmmm. Here, gimme just a sec...”

If he could hear footsteps retreating he’d be counting them, but the roar of the storm washes out anything and everything so mild, and so he’s left clueless as to where his companion has gone or why. And there’s something to that; he really shouldn’t be able to get much more panicked than he’s been already, but here he is, curling impossibly tighter around his own twisted limbs, muscles shaking and joints tweaking in protest and it’s all completely unreasonable. He  _ wanted _ to be left alone. Actually  _ getting _ it shouldn’t be worse than someone seeing him like this!

And then suddenly there’s a warm presence leaning over him with a quiet “Here!” and then something heavy and warm is smothering all the sounds of the thunder and the pounding rain and the soft murmurs of his fellows shouting commentary to one another and he’s still shaking but now it’s  _ contained, _ somehow. He wonders at the smell of  _ home _ clinging to every fiber of his covering; has he truly been travelling with them so long now that these other selves have taken such a place in his mind? And then there’s a hand on his knee and a pressure and warmth as a brother leans in to reach his ear:

“Take as long as you need. We’re all here whenever you’re ready, okay?”

He can’t physically answer to acknowledge the platitude, but by the triforce and all the gods is he ever grateful to be travelling with this group. If anyone is going to get it, it  _ would _ be his other selves, wouldn’t it?

He gives himself over to the panic for a time, but it’s different now; certainly, his thoughts are being consumed by an endless void of fear and his limbs are still wrapped around each other and his trunk severely, but he’s no longer drifting far away. Instead, he’s tethered by whatever weight is settled across his whole body, pinning him to himself and his companions only paces away.

When it rides out at last and he regains control of his body once more, he oozes bonelessly against the rock behind him for a minute, letting the cloth pull tight across his aching limbs, tenting pleasantly to make a space all his own for just a moment in time. Finally, after several deep breaths, he presses strength back into his appendages and forces himself to his feet; walking it off will help far more than remaining melted on the hard stone. Gathering his hiding place, he finally takes note of the shape and color, and smiles faintly before pushing himself to a cantering stride to return it to its owner.

The toss and impact of cloth against head is met with some faint noises of offense, but he’s unconcerned. A moment of disentangling has a peek of blue eyes smiling out at him, a silent  _ better now? _ passing easily between them, and he meets it with a grateful nod. His voice isn’t fully returned yet; he can feel it in the way his throat closes around his breath still, and anything he might try to speak with only be snatched away in the bellowing thunder and rain. But the idea gets across, and that’s the important thing. 

Turning to watch the storm with his brothers, he manages a tight smile. 

No, he’s not okay, at least not yet. 

But he will be.

**Author's Note:**

> You know that meme?  
> "Started making it. Had a breakdown. Bon appétit."
> 
> That. That's how my day's gone today. So uh. Have some self-indulgent ambiguous freakout i guess?
> 
> I don't even know which Links they are, so have fun projecting.
> 
> Here's to a better day tomorrow, yeah?


End file.
